


got some damn bad intentions

by carrythesky



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: 4+1 fic, Canon Compliant, Character Study, F/M, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-04-01
Packaged: 2019-12-30 05:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18309125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrythesky/pseuds/carrythesky
Summary: Four times Beth thinks about Rio's lips, and one time she doesn't.





	got some damn bad intentions

**Author's Note:**

> THESE TWO OWN MY ENTIRE ASS AND I AM NOT EVEN A LITTLE BIT MAD ABOUT IT

I.

 

This is a bad idea.

 

She knows it, objectively. Part of her is even relieved, staring at the abandoned warehouse. It’s over, it’s done. He’d told her himself.

 

_We’re good._

 

They’re good, her and Annie and Ruby, good to move on with their lives without having to keep tabs on guys tied up in tree houses, or coming home to a gangbanger in the kitchen. They’re good, and re-establishing contact with said gangbanger and his hoard of street people when they have no logical reason to do so is, objectively, _bad_ —

 

Beth takes a breath, and leaves the pearls.

 

.

 

She leaves her front door unlocked, and he slips in like a shadow. He’s always acted like he owns the place, like it’s his prerogative to come and go and invade her privacy as he pleases, but tonight — tonight, he just looks at her, hand lingering on the door knob as he stands in the entryway. He’s waiting, she realizes. Waiting for her to give him the okay.

 

Beth tips her head and pours herself a glass of bourbon.

 

When she glances up, he’s standing across the island from her. “You know the tradition is Jordans over a phone line, right?” he asks, the lazy lilt of his voice softer than she remembers.

 

Beth shrugs. “I only had pumps.”

 

She thinks it’s a trick of the light, at first, the way his face changes. There’s something familiar in his eyes — admiration, maybe. Curiosity. He’s looking at her like he wants to open her up, see what spills out.

 

She knows, because she’s looking at him the same way.

 

“Fair enough,” he replies, and Beth can’t help it — her gaze darts to his mouth, the quirk of his lips, and it’s only for a moment, a split nanosecond —

 

She looks up. His eyes are bright, under the kitchen lights.

 

“So,” he says, smiling. “What’d you wanna talk to me about?”

 

II.

 

One body in her kid’s bedroom, two visits from Special Agent Jim Turner, and several Cloud 9 receipts later, it happens again.

 

“I don’t want to make noise,” she’s telling him. They’re the only cars in the parking lot, but it’s still broad daylight. She squirms in her seat and casts another glance out the driver’s side window. “The FBI’s going to want to know what someone like me is doing with someone like you.”

 

Rio — because she knows his goddamn _name_ , now — tips his head back against the seat. “What _are_ you doin’ with someone like me?” His lips are slightly parted, not quite a smile, but Beth knows him well enough by now to know he’s ribbing her.

 

God, it pisses her off.

 

“Well, obviously, I can’t tell them that,” she hisses.

 

“Right, right,” Rio says, and _now_ he’s smiling, teeth and everything. “Alright, so tell them I was hittin’ it.”

 

“What?”

 

“Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart, tell them—” he licks his lips, presses them together— “we’re makin’ love.”

 

Beth feels her mouth moving, but all that comes out is air. “I—” she sputters. “I— how do I even say that?”

 

Rio breaths a laugh through his teeth. “You’ll think of somethin’. Make me sound good, though, yeah?”

 

She watches him leave, and thinks —

 

III.

 

(It’s not her body. These aren’t her hands, hooking around his neck to pull him close, not her lips that are slanting up to meet his. He’s got one hand buried in her hair, fingers curved against her scalp.

 

The other is between her legs.

 

“Shh, shh,” he breathes into her ear, and her whole body spasms, a jolt of current down the length of her spine. “I got you, ma. I got you.”

 

Then his mouth is on her skin, lips ghosting the line of her jaw, her neck, and it’s not her, as he works his way lower, it’s not —)

 

Beth jerks awake with a gasp and a low, curdling warmth in her gut.

 

“Oh, _fuck_ ,” she whispers to her empty bedroom.

 

IV.

 

She holds it together for about three seconds after the officer’s car pulls away. There’s a cresting wave of relief, and then she sinks her forehead into her hands and sobs, big, throaty ones that wrench their way from her throat and leave her heaving in the driver’s seat of the truck.

 

She’d almost lost everything. And for what?

 

Beth cries until she can’t anymore, then turns the keys in the ignition.

 

.

 

By the time she makes it to the warehouse, the tumultuous flurry of emotion inside her has sharpened into something clear, something bright and furious. Her anger has a face and a name, both of which are waiting for her when she pulls into the lot and careens out of the truck, slamming the door behind her.

 

“I just got pulled over!” she shouts, storming towards him.

 

“So?”

 

 _Oh_ , she’s going to murder him. “So, I barely talked myself out of being arrested!”

 

“For driving an empty truck?” he says, eyebrows raised, lips twisting in a way she’s familiar with by now. She hates it. She hates _him._

 

“Why didn’t you do it yourself? Why did you need us to bring you an empty truck?”

 

“I had a kid,” he says. “The feds turned him.”

 

Beth feels her stomach drop. “So this is a test?”

 

“Needed to know if he talked. I guess he didn’t.”

 

“And now we’re back in business,” Beth snarls. Her entire body is thrumming, bitter-bright rage simmering just under the surface.

 

“You’re catching on.” Rio steps towards her, palm open. “Gimme the keys.”

 

“I have a family,” Beth grits between her teeth. She can hear how low her voice is, how angry she sounds. Good. Let him hear it, too. She’s angry, she’s fucking _furious,_ and she wants him to know it, because she has everything, a life outside all of this insanity. She has everything to lose. “I have children—”

 

“Yeah, you love tellin’ me that, huh?”

 

“If you think,” she presses on, “you can use me like a worm on a hook so that you don’t get caught—”

 

He cuts her off again, but Beth isn’t listening anymore. She sees his lips moving and all she wants right now is for him to stop talking, all she wants is to _shut him up_ —

 

She throws the keys as hard as she can. They hit him square on the mouth.

 

Rio runs a hand over his jaw, stoops to retrieve the keys. He doesn’t look angry, or even irritated, as he moves closer to her. “What me and you had is over,” he says, and the resolve in his voice makes her blood run cold. “Done.”

 

She believes him.

 

.

 

She’s not sure she’d do anything differently.

 

V.

 

Beth doesn’t want to kiss him. That much she knows. The rest of it — catching his gaze across the bar, slinging her purse over her shoulder and making her way to the bathroom — the rest of it, she’s making up as she goes. All of it feels out of control, like it’s someone else’s body going through the motions, someone else’s body humming like a live wire.

 

She meets his eyes in the mirror. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move from where he’s standing. Beth reads the nonverbal cues like a neon sign.

 

Ball’s in your court, ma.

 

She turns around and glides towards him, untethered. His face is inches from hers, lips parted, dark eyes drinking her in like she’s the first woman he’s ever seen, like he wants to devour her whole—

 

Beth doesn’t want to kiss him. She wants something else.

 

The fabric of her dress is soft and cool, against her skin. Beth slides it up her thigh, and invites him in.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm carry-the-sky on tumblr, pls feel free to come scream at/with me :)


End file.
